Page 3 of Somewhere I'll Find You
“Occasionally, yes. I just don't happen to think he's comparable to Garrick. Not yet, at any rate.”
Julia shrugged. “Since I've never actually seen him on stage, I'll have to reserve judgment.”
They reached the greenroom, which was not actually green, and Julia clutched her papers tightly as she stepped inside. The large cream-painted room was filled with well-worn chairs and settees, battered tables, and a tray piled with bread, smoked meats, and cheese. Two women were seated in the corner, while a girl and a young man were rehearsing a scene on the other side of the room, pausing to laugh at some bit of awkward choreography. A portly older gentleman sat off to one side, reading a play and mouthing the lines silently.
At the sight of the new arrivals, they all looked up. Immediately they came forward to Julia's companion, crowding around him until Julia was nudged aside. He fended off a torrent of questions and demands with upraised hands. “Later,” he informed them. “For now I have some business to attend to—an audition.”
Julia stared at him with wide eyes. Now that they were in the well-lit greenroom, she could see many of the details about him that had escaped her before. He was dressed in expensive, perfectly tailored clothes: dark trousers, a rich emerald vest, and a black silk cravat. She had never seen such beautiful hair on a man, unruly waves of brown that gleamed with burnished mahogany highlights. It was cut short and brushed back, but it had a rumpled appearance that practically begged a woman to smooth it.
His air of authority was unmistakable. That, and the compellingly deep timbre of his voice, and most of all those riveting blue eyes, convinced Julia of who he was. She felt her heart plummet to her feet, and she knew the color had left her cheeks. “You're Logan Scott,” she murmured. “You should have told me.”
His eyes gleamed with mischief and challenge. “You should have asked.”
She nodded in rueful acknowledgment, wondering if she had managed to ruin all chances of creating a favorable impression.
“And your name is…?” he prompted.
“Mrs. Jessica Wentworth,” Julia said, using the stage name she had invented for herself. The half-dozen people in the room stared at her curiously. She wanted to crawl away into some dark corner and hide.
“Very well, Mrs. Wentworth,” Logan Scott said softly. “Let's find out what you're capable of.” He held out one broad hand for the audition pieces she had brought, and casually riffled through the damp pages. “I see you've prepared a scene fromMathilda. Excellent. We had a long run of that play last season. Charles is quite familiar with it.” He gestured to the tall blond man a few feet away. “Would you mind taking the part of Lord Aversley, Charles?”
The young man obeyed with alacrity.
Scott seated himself comfortably, and the others followed suit. “If you don't mind, Mrs. Wentworth, we'll allow the other members of the company to watch your audition.”
Julia did mind, actually. It was much more difficult to play a scene in front of a very small group than a large one. And these people wereactors, the most critical audience of all. They would mock her for wanting to be part of the Capital—they would see immediately that she'd had no training, and precious little experience. But she had come too far to retreat now. Julia forced a smile to her face, and unlocked her knees in order to join the young man at the center of the greenroom.
In appearance, Charles was not the ideal Lord Aversley—he seemed rather too bland and handsome for the role of a consummate villain. On the other hand, he possessed an air of self-assurance that impressed Julia. She had no doubt of his ability to play convincingly any character he chose.
“Mathilda is a tricky role to choose for an audition,” Logan Scott remarked. It was unclear if he was speaking to Julia or the others in the room. “The part of a long-suffering heroine is usually tiresome.”
Julia nodded gravely, staring at his imperturbable face. “I shall endeavor not to be boring, Mr. Scott.”
There was a twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. “Begin when you're ready, Mrs. Wentworth.”
Julia nodded and stared at the floor in concentration, preparing herself for the scene. The story ofMathildahad brought fame to its author, S. R. Fielding, two short years ago, first in the form of a novel and then as a smashing success on the stage. The public was fascinated by the tale of an ambitious country girl's descent into prostitution, and her eventual redemption. The scene Julia had chosen was a pivotal one in which Mathilda, still a virgin, was seduced by the diabolical rake Lord Aversley.
Julia glanced up at Charles, and she began to speak in a rough country accent. He responded in the pure, aristocratic tones of Aversley. With each line, Julia felt herself sinking deeper into the character. She became half-flirtatious, half-fearful, advancing and retreating as Aversley slowly pursued her around the room.
Logan concentrated on the girl, all his senses arrested. Although she was a small woman, a little below average height, her slenderness gave her the illusion of being taller. With her ash-blond hair, brilliant blue-green eyes and delicately angled face, she was too pretty, actually. It was rare to find a woman of such unassailable beauty who was also a proficient actress. Truly beautiful women never seemed to have the emotional depth or drive to play anything other than an ingenue.
Less than a minute after the scene had begun, Logan realized that Jessica Wentworth had a remarkable presence, the kind that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. She had the gift of transforming herself into the character she played. He knew without vanity that he possessed the same ability, and that on occasion one or two of the players in the company could achieve it. But such a talent was rare in a girl who couldn't be more than twenty.
Jessica Wentworth interpreted the character of Mathilda with seeming effortlessness. She was strangely touching, with a child's curiosity and a pitiable fascination for the man who would ruin her. And there was a thread of calculation in her manner, a smart and subtle understanding of Mathilda's misguided ambition to have a wealthy man in her power. Logan shook his head slightly, appreciating the fluid quality of her performance. He glanced at the other actors and saw that they were staring raptly at the newcomer.
Julia began to relax and enjoy the pleasure of working with an actor as accomplished as Charles. He made it surprisingly easy for her to believe he was Aversley as he sneered and stalked her from one side of the room to the other. However, she faltered and stopped in dismay as she heard Logan Scott's voice cut through the exchange of dialogue.
“I'll finish the scene with her, Charles.”
Startled, Julia watched as Scott stood from his chair and approached her. He motioned for Charles to sit down, and assumed his place. Julia was momentarily transfixed by the change that came over Logan Scott, the sudden crackling tension in the room, the flicker of blue fire in his eyes. He smiled at her slightly, and began speaking as Aversley. It was thrilling. Julia wanted to take a seat and just listen to the suppressed power of his voice. He gave the character of Aversley a catlike quality, a preposterous self-importance, and an unexpected hint of bitterness.
Adjusting the pitch of her performance to his, Julia responded as Mathilda, and for a few moment it was easy to lose herself in the role, forgetting who she was. Aversley toyed with Mathilda, lunged for her, promising pleasure and torment with his silky voice and his hot blue eyes. He gripped her arms, and Julia was startled by the genuine feeling of being trapped. She tried to wrench away, but he held her near, and spoke close to her mouth until his warm breath fanned her lips.
They were at the part of the play when Aversley kissed Mathilda and carried her offstage, leaving the rest of the action to the audience's imagination. Julia tensed in Logan Scott's arms, feeling utterly possessed by his hard grip. She thought briefly that he would kiss her, and was relieved when a mask dropped over his face and he released her carefully. The scene was over.
The others in the room were silent. Julia felt their gazes on her as she stepped back and rubbed the places on her arms where Scott had held her.
Noting her action, Scott turned toward her with an arched brow. “Did I hurt you?” he inquired with mild surprise.
